Something About Christmas Time
by RchHghr
Summary: AU "What are you doing for Christmas?" "I am not celebrating this year." What if you knew someone who wasn't celebrating as well? Two people can not not celebrate Christmas together.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, I just want to say that, even though the characters in this story are not having the best of Christmas's I want to wish you the very best of Christmas's. I hope your season is filled with joy, relaxation and fun. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Edit: I thought I'd be getting this up before Christmas, but there was so much going on! I had a great Christmas, so I am wishing everyone a Happy New Year full happiness, health, love and friendships.

Winter has got to be my least favorite when it comes to the seasons. The temperature chills me to the bone, but it's not enough to turn the precipitation into a winter wonderland. Instead, the snow is wet, sloppy and it soaks through my clothes, and my boots. Most importantly, it soaks through the hole in my left boot which in turn soaks my socks leaving my whole day to be in ruin.

My hands can not be warmed because I am missing one glove. I lost it in a fight in which I was submerged into during a raid. The graze of a bullet against my ribs isn't helping me in the least bit. My mood could not be any lower, and the opinions I am going to be faced with will make me feel lower than I already do.

But I am late as it is, and I am sick. My nose feels like its going to fall off, my eyes are crusty, and my throat is dry. I have an obligation even though I want to be in bed.

I enter Grimmauld Place. The raised voices coming from the kitchen tell me that not everyone is on the same page, and not everyone will agree with the course of action that is to take place.

Great.

I wipe my nose with my sleeve and come away with a little blood from my split lip. I suck on it to clear it away, and the taste of metal hangs in my mouth, and soon to be in my stomach.

My legs are very shaky as it is, but they feel more shaky than ever. I feel like I'm walking on jell-o. I take slow steps and with a sudden nervous, and shaky hand I push open the door and all the conversations cease from going on, and all eyes are on me.

I am wearing a hood and hat, but even so, my 'original' face is 'showing' and everyone has noticed. Alastor rises from the table with his wand pointed at me- as does Kingsley.

Oh great. They think I'm a Death Eater. At this point, I really should've considered going to home instead. I don't think anyone would've even noticed that I wasn't here.

"Remove your hood Nymphadora!" barks Alastor.

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape watch with straight faces, but I can tell that underneath, they are content.

"I don't think that's a great idea."

"Now! Prove who you are."

My hands go up, just like the time I was caught by the Muggle Police Officers. That was another great time; just like the time I am having right now.

I sigh. "I'm going to put my wand on the table. When you see me completely please do not fire. Ask me any question that you want to. No question can be off limit if it is to prove who I am."

I take my only glove off and drop it on the table. My hand, both my hands, are red and raw. There is nothing feminine about my nails.

Slowly I undo my scarf. I set it on the table. There's a chill in here that seeps the wet of the snow deeper through my clothes. I shiver. My hands feel suddenly even more shaky. This doesn't help my case. I sneeze, and wipe my nose again. My sleeve shows a sign of snot.

No one blesses me. Great.

I pull down my hood, and take off my hat. Crazy curly hair goes everywhere. It's a mess, and flat from the hat at the same time. I look like my aunt, and it shows on the eyes of those surprised. I can't metamorph because, well, for a lot of reasons, and everyone knows who my family is, and yet it's a surprise I look like someone a lot of people fear.

My hands go up again because I have yet to prove myself. Everyone can see the shaking, and I can feel the pain of possibly a broken rib, and the wound of the grazed bullet.

Weakly, with a dry throat I proclaim, "this is the real me. Tada!"

It does not go over.

"Ask me something I would only know, Alastor."

My legs are really tired. I want to sit; not as much Alastor and Kingsley though. They would stand to prove their point. I would question me too, but I am not in the mood.

"Nymphadora…"

I give him a look. I am going to change my name one day.

"Who was the first dark wizard you ever apprehended, and what was the crime."

I keep myself from rolling my eyes. "James Arlington. He murdered a family of four in their very own sitting room."

He nods. I've got him convinced. Barely. If that's all I am going to get then I'm okay with that.

I put my hat back on, but leave the hood off.

I want to be sarcastic and question, 'anyone else?' but I just squeeze in next to Severus Snape. I ease down onto the bench with a sigh. It has really been a busy day.

I listen to conversations around me. I do not put my two-sense in. My mouth is very dry. I can hear my breathing. I hope it was only a graze. I really do not want to go to St. Mungos tonight, but I don't think I will have a choice.

At the end while some leave, and Molly starts to cook I excuse myself to go lay down on the couch. I ease down and curl my legs in. The pain is getting worse. I should just go home, but something holds me back. I know I am waiting for someone who isn't going to come; for something that is never going to happen, but I am just that stupid.

Someone enters the room.

"Nymphadora."

Who would call me that when I clearly do not like it, why no other than Severus Snape.

I don't move. I don't think I can unless I put in some effort. My face is in the cushions… if only I had a blanket around me.

"I am willing to make a trade with you."

I grumble, "don't bother, I have nothing to offer up."

"Oh, but you do," he drawls.

Loud movement catches both our attentions.

"I know you are out of commission tonight as you will be in St. Mungos explaining away your gunshot wound. Tomorrow night, ten o'clock, call the location."

The first location that comes to mind comes out of my mouth, "Mike's Tavern, it's-"

"See you tomorrow night. Have a good night, Nymphadora." He drawls out my name on his way out.

Oh great, I've just made a deal with the devil. What have I got to lose?

I scrounge up the energy to rejoin those who are left, and lucky for me it's only Arthur, Molly, Kingsley and Alastor. I sit next to Alastor and his uneasiness. His eye goes crazy.

"Dear, would you care to eat?" Molly questions me and my appearance.

"Sure, thanks." My chest hurts so much. I'm going to have to go.

She nods vigorously and sets to work.

"Alastor, would you like to accompany me to St Mungos tonight? I don't need any more attention tonight." Just like the attention I am feeling right now.

"Aye," he agrees and it puts me at ease that he will be going with me. It will prove to me that he knows that it's me, and that he can trust me.

Molly puts a bowl in front of me. "So, do you have plans for Christmas? If not, you can join us. I'd be happy to have you over."

"Thanks, but no, I am not celebrating this year." I do not have anyone to spend Christmas with, is what I want to say, but I don't. I eat half of the food in front of me. That's all I can manage.

I am not staying overnight. They cannot force me. It's a simple wound, it just hurts a lot.


	2. Chapter 2

My wounds aren't serious, like I've thought, and I'm in my own bed by three o' clock in the morning. I sleep all day, and when I finally can't stand the taste of my own mouth anymore do I get out of bed and take a very long bath.

I don't have any food in my house so I venture out at night and eat street food. I make myself blend in with the Muggles, and no one looks at me strange while I wander. I wander until I have to meet the Devil. I am a half hour early, but he is already here at the bar. Why would he want to get a head start instead of waiting for me?

He's dressed just like Muggle, and it makes me question myself, just how much he is possibly doing this? Maybe he has a hobby.

He wears a long coat, and his hair is pulled back with a soft band.

Is he trying to find a lady tonight? Or is he hiding out in plain sight?

No one will recognize me here, and I think the same for him. I take off my hat and fluff my crazy hair. My face screams head cold with my red nose and blotchy, brown bags under my eyes- but that cannot be fixed so why even bother trying?

I'm not dressed as well as he is: I'm wearing jeans with rips in the knees, and unfortunately in the crotch. My sweater is long so it hides how damaged my pants are, and I wear a neck scarf of plum. I'm more ready to go home and go to bed until the holidays are over.

While the place is filled no one sits on either side of him.

I don't know why I feel so anxious all of a sudden. It doesn't matter anyways. I walk over and sit to his left. His eyes go to me, and then back to his drink which he finishes setting the glass down on the bar with a thump.

"Starting without me?" I question. I set my hat aside and rest my elbows down.

The bartender comes over. He orders another drink.

"And you?" he questions. His eyes linger on the brown circles under my eyes.

"Whatever he's drinking, and a shot of vodka, doesn't matter what kind."

"Okay.." He wraps his knuckles on the bar and sets to work. He sets the shot in front of me as well as a glass in which he fills. He fills his as well.

I salute him with the shot and drink it down with one gulp.

Christmas music starts up as the lights dim down. Twinkle lights of Christmas shine everywhere.

Just great.

"So," I say above the burn that warms my middle, "who are you hiding from? I'm not too far into my drinks to be asking rude questions, but here we are." I even give a tiny shrug with my shoulders.

"The more prominent question is how many people are you hiding from?" he drawls out the last word as if he already has the upper hand. He knows he does, but that's not the point, until he adds in, "I can show my face anywhere I go."

"Guess you're right. You know how much of a 'stir-up' I can be." I sip the whisky in front of me. It's very strong so I know my next sip will be a chug.

In fact, I chug some of it before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Why aren't you surprised with my outward appearance? You were not phased in the least bit. Tell me why?"

He drinks. He puts his glass down. He doesn't answer for a while, and I'm going to question him again when he says, "it should be obvious. Your family has a strong resemblance. You look just like your mother."

"Thank you." I weakly clink my glass to his. "Glad you appreciate my appearance."

"I did not say that."

"I'll take it as a compliment anyways."

He mockingly salutes me with his glass before drinking some.

Someone in the back starts belting along with the music. They do not know the words, and they are too drunk to even know the words coming out of their mouth. They are giving me a headache.

I down the rest of my drink and refrain from gagging. It burns down my throat and floods my middle.

"Do you have any plans for the immediate future, or can you spare some more time? The noise level in this place is too much for my head."

"Of course," he drawls, "we still haven't even gotten to the point yet."

"Great!" I call the bartender over to us. "Can I have two shots, whatever festive ones you have."

He pours out two and I slide one in front of him. "Cheers?"

He looks down at it before taking it. We clink and drink. I like this side. I don't know if it's real or happening in my twisted head, but I guess I can enjoy it anyways.

I take out some money from my pocket but he halts me. "I have this." He puts it down and we leave just as "Blue Christmas" starts to play.

Great. As if I don't feel lonely enough.

But the alcohol is kicking in, and I feel lighter in the cold, brisk air. I can see my breath float up to the sky. I put my hat back on, and stuff my hair under it.

"Shall we walk?" I question, "I know my way around here."

He nods. He fastens a loose scarf much tighter around his neck.

I leave mine hanging loosely. Its an infinity scarf so I know it will not fall off.

"I don't have a course of action actually. Wander around with me and look at the sites?"

He nods. We walk down the blustery streets. Some people are scattered about, but everywhere is quiet.

"So Professor?" I question, with the drinks making me braver, "what do you want to ask of me? I know you have friends in 'darker places,' so what have they told you?"

"The shadow casted on me may be in fact shadowing you to the naked eye, but you do own your own shadow. It's not quite as clear, is it?"

"The only shadow I have comes out when the sun shines."

"That so?"

"Believe it. I know where my loyalties lie, do you?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps they lay at the bottom of the Garland River.

I smirk. I stuff my hands into my sleeves and cross my arms as we walk. I really need a new pair of gloves- ones that do not tear or hole-up very easily. Maybe I can ask Father Christmas, but if I'm to believe I'm as dark as he says then for certainty I must be on the naughty list.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing at the bottom of the river; not even my loyalties."

"I want it then. I can put it to good use."

"Hm? When you say it like that I can shape it to mean good or evil. I'll give it to you anyways. I have no use for it

. Since it is Christmas time I'll tell myself that you are using it for good. Fair?"

"Fair enough." He agrees. "What do you want in return."

I wave off his comment. "I don't want anything. It's a gift. Let's circle around the park and you can walk me home. Tough neighborhood."

"I bet."

He does walk me home, but I invite him in. He leaves in the morning.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
